Chirky

As a woman, I admit that I have bought into society's perspective that thin is beautiful, and to be acceptable in society is to be thin. But, thin is beautiful, isn't it? I mean, I don't look at women who are obese, or who have cottage cheese thighs, and think, "Wow. Her body is so beautiful." I don't always look at my body, which houses those cottage cheese thighs, and think that IT is beautiful.

I am well aware that beauty goes beyond looks. Beauty is internal. Beauty is displayed in how you treat others and yourself, your self-confidence, even your beliefs.

Naturally, the one day that most women want to be beautiful, physically, is on their wedding day. They want to have perfect hair, perfect skin, a perfect body, a perfect dress, and a perfect wedding.

I, too, fell into this trap. I knew that not everything would go smoothly, that it would be naive of me to expect a perfect wedding. Something, beyond my control, would probably go awry and I accepted that fact. But I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to do whatever was within my control to be absolutely captivating.

I began exercising before my wedding, hoping to shed just a few pounds. Those few pounds really wouldn't make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of the day, but they would be important to me. I also climbed 18 flights of stairs to work each day, which helped tremendously.

I tanned, so that my skin would glow bronze against my pearl-white dress, and I visited my favorite spa for a manicure and pedicure. I wanted everything as perfect as possible.

About a month before the big day, while flipping through a Dallas-based wedding magazine, I came across an advertisement promising that I could lose inches quickly. It seemed scandalous (and yet tempting) to me, so I researched the company and the process through which they asserted that I, too, could lose those pesky inches. I was a bit skeptical that I could lose inches quickly through a body wrap, of all things, but the Body Wrap Shop of Dallas, Texas promised that I could. Except when you read the fine print.

After researching the company, I decided that it might be legit and I made an appointment. Uncertain what I might find (and curious about why they told me to bring my swimsuit), I cautiously climbed the stairs that led up to the inch-loss center. In a small room at the top of the stairs, I found the following:

To my left, a wall lined with doors, each approximately four feet apart. Against the left wall sat a tiny desk and receptionist, where I was checked in for my appointment. Along the back wall were two chairs where customers could sit. The right wall was entirely glass, with wide-set double glass doors leading into the room. Not frosted glass, but clear window glass. The kind of glass that allows no privacy, through which one might be humiliated if someone were to look through that glass and into the room. Yes. That kind of glass.

Inside the glass room were several pieces of exercise equipment, a television, and a miniature trampoline. There were also three women. Well, I am guessing they were women. I couldn't really tell.

Each person was mummy-wrapped, literally head to toe, in ace bandages. Over the bandages, each "woman" wore a rain poncho, complete with hood. And over each hand and foot were plastic bags attached with rubber bands.

The women were slowly exercising on the equipment. I couldn't decide if this was because they were lazy, or if they just couldn't move.

I sat down in one of the chairs along the back wall, staring at them, thinking to myself, "What in the world are they doing?" and laughing internally at these crazy women. I was trying not to laugh externally, because I would be sad if I saw someone staring at ME in disbelief, laughing at ME. I turned to the girl next to me and asked whether this was her first visit. It was, but she had a friend who did it and lost an overall 16 inches from her arms, tummy, thighs, etc.

Encouraged, but still skeptical, I looked through the window again and contemplated whether I was this desperate to lose a couple inches. Just then, my name was called.

I went through one of the doors on the left-hand wall, where I was given a chance to ask questions, read papers, and sign my life away. I did, still unsure, but impressed by the salesmanship of the employees. I was led to another room to change into my swimsuit, and given a locker where I could store my belongings.

A middle-aged woman who had just returned from her smoke break introduced herself and told me that she would be wrapping me today. She took me to a tiny room divided by four curtains, which created a "hallway" and four "stalls" where people could be wrapped. Please note that this ENTIRE room was only about 5' by 5'.

She asked me to stand with my legs apart so that she could fully measure me, and started wrapping various parts of my body with a tape measure. After she recorded my measurements, she started wrapping me with bandages. She wrapped me using approximately forty rolls (well, I didn't actually count them, but I had increased by about four sizes of clothing by the time she was through, so 40 rolls of ace bandages covering my body doesn't sound excessive). The ace bandages were kept in a storage bin, and were soaking in a "special ingredient." A special ingredient that smelled like urine.

She wrapped my feet, my calves, my knees, my thighs. She wrapped my butt, my abs, my chest, my shoulders. She wrapped my arms, my hands. She wrapped my neck, MY FACE, and then re-wrapped my thighs, my butt, and my stomach. I guess she thought these areas need EXTRA HELP.

When she was through, I was literally covered HEAD-TO-TOE in warm, wet bandages, could hardly move, and smelled like urine.

She put a poncho over my body, including the hood on my head. Next, she took four clear bags (the kind you take fish home in from Wal-Mart) and put one over each of my feet and hands, securing each with a rubber band.

Because my legs were wrapped so tightly in ace bandages, and I could not even bend my knees, she had to help me waddle out of the tiny wrapping stall and into the "exercise room" where the humiliation would begin because everyone was STARING AT ME THROUGH THE CLEAR GLASS WINDOWS.

Next, she had to help me climb onto the treadmill. I couldn't bend my knees, so she sort of hoisted me up the FOUR INCH STEP UP to get onto the treadmill. I NEEDED THAT MUCH HELP.

I turned on the treadmill and walked at the slowest pace imaginable. Not because I was lazy, BUT BECAUSE I COULDN'T MOVE. My inability to bend my knees meant that in order to walk on the treadmill, I had to take giant swinging steps, bringing my leg out to my side and around, in little waddling semi-circles.

Every fifteen minutes, we were required to change exercise machines. I think this was because the employees got a good laugh watching us jump off each piece of equipment.

In between these exercise-switches, an employee pulled us aside, poured more "special ingredient" all over our bandaged bodies, and took off each plastic bag, dumped out the water/special ingredient/sweat that had collected, and replaced the bag on our bodies. Next, the employee would dump all the water/special ingredient/sweat into a separate bag or jug, hold it up to the window, and look at the contents.

She would show it to me, silhouetting it against the sun, and say,

"See? These are all the toxins that you are working out of your system right now."

"That just looks like water. I don't see any toxins. What are they supposed to look like?"

"Well, they're in there. Maybe next break you'll see them a bit better."

And I would exercise harder for another fifteen minutes, anxious to see my toxins, only to see water again. I finally stopped saying that I couldn't see it, BECAUSE IT WASN'T THERE, and just started agreeing with her: "Oh, sure - I see them now" because I didn't want her to think that I was stupid because I couldn't even see my own toxins.

It was kind of like when you are pregnant and go in for your first sonogram, but you can't see anything even though the nurse is telling you right where the baby is. EXCEPT THIS TIME, THERE WAS NO SONOGRAM, AND THERE WERE NO TOXINS.

After my hour of exercise and fake-toxin-viewing was complete, the lady who wrapped me came back and retrieved me from the view of several other customers, and led me through the lobby and into the little wrapping room again. She removed all my bandages, dried me off, and re-measured me.

Amazingly, I lost a total of 17 5/8 inches from my body!

Still smelling like urine, I went back to the dressing room and prepared to go back to work. Did I mention that I did this on my lunch break?

My pants were fitting a bit tightly, but I assumed this was because my body was still a bit damp from the soaked bandages. I paid and left, encouraged and happy to be 17 5/8 inches smaller.

The next day, all my clothes were still fitting tighter. Blemishes appeared on my face, back, neck, chest, and shoulders. It backfired! I discovered that I had somehow gained weight, probably water weight. AND IT GAVE ME ACNE. ONE MONTH BEFORE MY WEDDING. AND MY STRAPLESS GOWN.

I went back to talk to the manager, and she refused to refund me the money I paid, even for services NOT RENDERED (ie, I bought a package of three body wraps, and only had this one wrap done).

Therefore, The Body Wrap Shop of Dallas, Texas is on notice. (And if you visit the website, and see the picture of the woman in a "wrap," believe me - THAT IS NOT WHAT WE LOOKED LIKE.)

It has been one year since that humiliating day, and I still have a credit if any of you want to try it.

Be sure to tell me when you schedule an appointment, so that I can be in the waiting room, watching you through the looking glass. I can't promise not to bring my camera.